


Hide and Seek

by vega_voices



Series: Patience [7]
Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-15
Updated: 2010-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:19:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices





	Hide and Seek

_**Fic: In Plain Sight - Hide and Seek**_  
 **Title:** Hide and Seek  
 **Author:** [](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/profile)[**vegawriters**](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** In Plain Sight  
 **Pairing:** Mary/Marshall  
 **Timeframe:** Post “Her Days Are Numbered”  
 **Rating:** Matureish  
 **A/N:** This stands alone, but is part of the [Patience](http://community.livejournal.com/vega_voices/tag/fic:%20patience%20universe) sequence.

He meets them at the restaurant and instantly notices the change in Brandi. She’s quiet where just the other night she was full of laughter and her usual flirting. His suspicious mind wonders, briefly, if she suspected the change relationship between him and her sister, but Marshall isn’t dumb enough to open his mouth and ask. Brandi wouldn’t understand. Not right now. And even if she did, not even he and Mary really understand it, so no one else needs to try to analyze what they are doing. But he and Mary both wait for Brandi and Scott to enter the restaurant and he hazards a kiss, which Mary returns.

“What the hell was Stan thinking, sending you to Pittsburgh without me?”

“If I think too hard about it, I’ll go crazy.” For a minute, her hand rests on his stomach in that way she’d adopted, and he sighs softly. Her bitter, sarcastic wit was worse than usual this week and his feelings are still sore from the beating he took, but her touch lets him know that she’s sorry. He has permission to ask her about it later.

“We should get in there.” He drops a kiss to her lips again and Mary offers the soft, sad smile he fell in love with years ago. She’s hurting too. But this time he can’t just let her get away with exploding on him. This time, they have to work it out together.

Inside, Scott eyes him cautiously, and Marshall meets his glare head on.

“So you work with Mary, hmmm. Is it as fun there as it is at home?”

Scott is the enigma and Marshall trusts instincts finely honed from his years in law enforcement: he needs to get this man away from the family he so fiercely loves. But he shrugs and resists the impulse to put his arm around Mary. “Mary’s the best partner and the best friend I’ve ever had.” He means it, despite the rage she’s directed at him over the last few weeks. “And she’s the best marshal I’ve ever worked with.” He means that too.

“Well, yeah.” Mary winks at him but follows the hostess to their table. While Scott and Brandi contemplate the drinks menu, he and Mary order whiskey. It has been a long, long week.

“So what is it really like being a US Marshal?” Scott leans forward and Marshall twitches, instincts telling him to ignore the fishing for information. The fact that this kid is Mary’s younger brother only slightly softens his heart.

“It’s interesting,” Marshall said, thoughtfully. The server leaves the drinks and he takes a long sip before continuing. “One day you’re in a courtroom, the next kicking down doors of known felons,” he looks directly at Scott as he speaks. “That’s Mary’s favorite part.”

“What can I say?” she says, her grin buried in her own glass. She downs the shot and Marshall follows her lead. They could sip the next round.

“So …” Marshall continues to stare at Scott. “You’re a recovering gambler who trades stock by day and searches for long lost brothers and sisters by night?”

Mary snorts and under the table, he feels her hand caress his thigh. But he can’t let it go. He can’t let this man hurt Mary anymore than she already hurts. She’d finally started to heal from her father’s abandonment and then Brandi brought this mess into their lives.

“Something like that.”

Mary’s hand tightens but Marshall presses on. “How did you find Brandi?”

“I got the number from Lauren. It really wasn’t all that hard.”

The server brings another round, and a pitcher of Sangria for Brandi and Scott. For a minute, the family stares at each other until Mary orders the platter for four. Her hand never leaves his thigh and only when the server leaves them to continue his interrogation does he realize it was there as much for her support as it was to rein him in. He sighs, unsure where to take the conversation.

Mary shakes her head, “I’m still not sure how I feel about the whole Lauren thing.” Her fingers tighten on his thigh and Marshall recognizes the sign to drop it. He doesn’t want to. He wants to get Scott alone in an interrogation room and milk him for all the information he can. But Mary wants to change the subject and he’ll honor that. For now.

***

She stays with him. They drop Brandi and Scott off at the house and make excuses for work and then head back to his place. Inside, she changes into her favorite pair of sleep pants and an old tank top of his. He just sits on the bed, watching her pace nervously. Finally, when she is nearly through with her pacing and aiming to slide a DVD into the player in his bedroom, he takes her hand and tugs her close so she stands between his legs.

“Mary.”

“I’m sorry.” She shakes her head and he worries a bit. Mary hates saying that she is sorry. “I was awful to you this week and you didn’t deserve any of it. Yeah, sometimes, before coffee, Marshall-Pedia drives me crazy, but I actually like it. Sometimes. I just … the bullshit with Scott and … I just can’t … I’m sorry.” Her hands rest on his shoulders and she’s got tears in her eyes and Marshall can only shake his head.

“It’s okay. But thank you for the apology.”

Gently, he pulls on her hips and she moves forward, pressing him back into the mattress. Her body rests on top of his, chaste, despite the gentle kiss she presses into his lips. They stay there, simply kissing, until it builds and he moves, allowing her body to settle between his legs. He is half-hard and she is lazy against him and finally, he rolls them so they are next to each other and his hand is trailing lazily over her back. “Let’s just go to sleep. We’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“No …” she sighs and buries her head in his chest. “I won’t.”

“What is it, Mary?” His hand continues to trail up and down her back.

“I just …” her voice is pained. “I need a vacation, Marshall. Away from mom and Brandi and God, Scott. Away even from you. I need to sit on a beach and sip mimosas and be alone. Does that make sense?”

Hurt, even though he understands her admission, Marshall leans in to kiss her neck. “Yes.” He hates to admit it, but he feels the same way. She needs a vacation and so, he thinks, does he. He wants to take it with her, but Mary’s solitude is key and between Brandi, Scott, and him, she has none.

She turns and kisses him, this time with more passion, and he responds instantly. They are still in that phase she loves, when the physical need is high. Keeping his hands off her at work is a near impossibility.

“I got into this too fast, Marshall,” she whispers. “I don’t … I don’t regret it but I … I just can’t …” she sucks in a breath. “I’m not going anywhere, but my head is spinning.”

“I know.” Again, he kisses her. She responds, turning, opening herself to him. His hand slides easily around her waist and he pulls her against him, not pushing her even as he eases her from her tank top; just enjoying the touch of her skin against his. Right now, they can lose themselves in this.

Hopefully, the rest will sort itself out.

***

Mary doesn’t know it, but she kissed him on the anniversary of the night he proposed to Michaela. Standing at his front door, still feeling the wine and tasting the sushi, she’d leaned against him as he rambled about the stars in an insane attempt to keep his heart from breaking and cut him off mid-word. He’d been the one to call that time – reaching out as she had – needing company before he went out and did something stupid. He just hadn’t expected the night to end like it did or turn into the whirlwind it has become.

Marshall marks the time in moments of joy. She is nothing like Michaela, and that is the important thing. She is never in the kitchen singing when he comes through the door. She drinks whiskey where Michaela only drank wine. She is not religious, she does not practice yoga or meditation, she confronts that which bothers her instead of trying to negotiate.

He has come to believe this is the universe telling him that soul mates come in all shapes and sizes and that what he is attracted to is not her blonde hair or her always sad blue-green eyes or the legs that go all the way up to her neck, but the strength and determination that Michaela also carried in her countenance.

“Let’s drive up to Chaco Canyon today.”

Her voice, groggy and still thick from sleep and the early morning sex they’d indulged in, surprises him and he rolls over. Mary is on her side, the sheet falling loose, exposing one breast. He leans forward and suckles the taught nipple, nibbling lightly. Mary does not push him away but lets her body fall back across the bed. He explores slowly, his mouth leading him down between her legs, where he settles, inhaling her musk and the lingering reminders of their Friday night escapades.

They have two, full, real days off. No more overtime allowed. They are not to be seen back in the witsec offices until nine AM Monday. He planned to spend the weekend completely buried inside of her. He doesn’t care what excuses she has to give Brandi about her absence from the house.

When Mary is gasping his name and tugging at his hair, he slides up and into her body and even after she comes and he is still thrusting into her, she is whimpering and moving and he knows she comes again as he sails over the edge.

“Why Chaco?” he asks, rolling off of her and bringing her along for the ride. They’ve become very good at avoiding wet spots in the bed.

“I don’t know. Gets us out of town and it’s been a while since I’ve been hiking.”

It’s Mary’s little secret. One only he knows. One of the reasons she loves New Mexico is the endless expanses of places in which to lose oneself. She takes off by herself to vanish between mesas and buttes, lost in thought and coming to terms with her past. She takes her journal, a journal only he knows about, and writes. Even Mary, whose let off valve is the job and busting down doors, needs peace and quiet. She is hardly an experienced desert wanderer and never stays overnight, but she can survive and the long treks through the desert always give her a sense of peace when she returns.

He’s always wanted to go to Chaco with her. To stand in the Great Houses and watch the reality of eternity be absorbed by her soul. He knows she goes there herself. There’s a room she likes, it’s small and quiet, tucked away from all the others. If he believed in reincarnation, he’d believe that somewhere in her ancient past, the child she had been had made that room her own. He knows that she appreciates the popular mythology of the Anasazi and jokes that even back then, there was an organization like witsec that was so developed, it could hide an entire civilization. Her bookshelves are full of details of the history of the region. She’s read all of them – many while sitting in that room, sipping her water and listening to the tourists outside.

That she is willing to share her sacred time with him means more than he dares to put into words. So he nods and kisses her and barely keeps in the declaration of love that has been on his lips for years. “Sounds good.”

She pulls away with his acceptance of the weekend’s journey. It means a trip back to her place to get her stuff and even a short three-hour road trip involves the stocking up on provisions for the road. She walks to the shower and throws a grin over her shoulder, “Don’t even think of following me, Casanova. I’m sore enough as it is.”

Marshall laughs and pulls on boxers. If they’re going to do this, he needs to put some kind of breakfast together.

***

  
Chaco is busy in the cool of early spring. Tourists wander through the restored houses, rangers give lectures on a history no one really understands, and Mary leads him through to her favorite place. They settle together on the dusty floor, on a red and orange blanket she’s had since she moved to New Mexico, and when he slides an arm around her shoulders, she doesn’t pull away.

She owes him an apology. She’s been awful lately. Pulling away, insulting him, demanding time alone. The excuses she heaps on herself all boil down to needing a vacation, away from the job and her house and her family and even, yes, sadly, him. She needs time to think.

How crazy, she admits to herself, that as her family’s life begins to stabilize, she is left wondering what to do with herself. Even the job is not enough. With a sigh, she puts her head on his shoulder and snuggles against him. He relaxes.

“I’m sorry,” the words come out and even though she hates them, she means them. “You deserve better.”

“So do you.” She knows that even though he’s not referring to him as her lover, he knows she is referring to herself as his. He simply kisses her temple and holds her. “Tell me something you’ve never told me,” he whispers, the sound of his voice muted by the ancient walls around them.

She closes her eyes, wondering what he deserves to know, what he doesn’t already know. Should she tell him about the boyfriend of her mother’s who used to watch her get undressed and who came into her room at night? He only came once and she almost bit off his fingers when they covered her mouth. Her mother had been so drunk that all she remembered was that the jerk never came back. She’d blamed Mary for chasing “such a good guy away.” He hadn’t been the only one to do it. Should she tell him the guy she lost her virginity to, the boys who cornered her behind the auditorium after rehearsal, or how she married Mark to get the hell out of the house and how she thought she was pregnant when she got it annulled?

Instead, she leans her head against his shoulder. “When I first saw you, I wanted to jump you. I remember thinking that all tall, lanky guys really do have something to brag about.”

“And?” He is laughing, silently.

“Now that I know, I’m glad I finally did.” She smiles and tilts her head up to him and he gives her the kiss she is wanting. His hand wraps slowly around her, staring at her abdomen as it moves to her hip, and she has a flash of a ring on his finger and a baby growing inside of her and it terrifies her so much she pulls away, briefly.

But it is the life she wants. She has always wanted. A life of true commitment. A life of honored responsibilities and quiet peace. Part of her, the part that isn’t terrified of sharing her life with someone, wants to give him a wedding and children and a life away from the marshal’s service.

But even more frightening is that she wants him. All of him. His Star Trek DVDs and his origami and his mambo lessons. She wants his cowboy boots and his belt buckles and his encyclopedia-like mind. All of it.

But does he want her? Her fears of commitment and her temper and how she lashes out at the people she loves the most? Does he want her bipolar like tendencies and her inability to connect to almost any other human being?

His kisses continue, driving the worries from her mind. His hand remains on her stomach, rubbing softly, and she knows, somehow, he’s thinking what she is. He’s thinking of marriage and children and about his own insecurities.

Gently, Mary links their fingers. She pulls out of the kiss and reaches into her backpack. Inside is one of what seems to be a million suede bound journals. Skilled fingers pluck open the tie and she opens to the most recent page and starts to read.

“Three years ago,” her voice seems to vanish in the quiet chamber. Below them tourists wander, but they are alone. Protected. “Three years ago, I came to a realization. Some people hide because they are scared of being seen, other’s because their lives depend on it, and some select few hide because they want someone, anyone, to know they are missing. To go looking for them. I’m in this category. I want someone to care. It’s selfish of me, but I want to be what matters most to someone. I have that in Marshall. And it terrifies me. It completely terrifies me. If I let him love me the way I want him to, it means I have to grow up and face the things I avoid. But what if I do … and he doesn’t want me?”

There. She’s admitted something she’s never told him. She stares at the page until he hooks a finger under her chin and tilts her head toward him.

“No matter how angry I get with you; no matter how frustrated. I will always want you with me, Mary.”

It’s as close to a real proposal as she’s ever heard and when his lips close over hers, she accepts his promise with a kiss of her own.


End file.
